


Enjolras's Prayer

by ShitpostingfromtheBarricade



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Barricade Day, Don't copy to another site, Enjolras POV, Gen, Monologue, Not atlou, Post-Barricade, Sad again, Soliloquy, if Enjolras had survived, mostly not religious, prosey again, vive la fuck you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 12:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19107118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShitpostingfromtheBarricade/pseuds/ShitpostingfromtheBarricade
Summary: Enjolras is alone in surviving the barricades, and he needs someone to talk to.Warnings:reference to other character deaths (not graphic), sad





	Enjolras's Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> Painstakingly beta-read by the wonderful [PieceOfCait](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieceOfCait/pseuds/PieceOfCait).

Dear Combeferre,

As you know, I have never been very religious, and if there is a God I am not on speaking terms with Him at the moment. But in life you were unwilling to dismiss the possibility of anything, and I refuse to believe that there is nothing more for you now. 

(There has to be. You had so much left to do.)

I am calling to update you on things on—things in Paris. 

You might be surprised to learn that I’ve abandoned my studies. I’m sure that it seems an odd choice, but, ah. It appears that classes are rather dull without you or Courfeyrac. As rarely as he joined us, I find myself feeling Bahorel’s absence intimately. Odd, isn’t it? That and, well, it would seem that I have 

no one

left

to fight for.

Perhaps the people deserve better. But the people left gentle Jehan and bold Bahorel and kind Courfeyrac to die, so maybe they don ’ t .

 

I had expected to be wanted by the law—leader of the rebellion—but the law seems to have decided to leave me be. They say that all alone, I cannot do anything.

But they’re wrong!

Because all alone I can raise the flag! I can rally the people, can call them to arms! Now that things have quietened, people are rising from the shadows and coming together against the injustice. Our numbers are building once more!

There is Joly—no, not Joly, Jacques. And he has a hare’s foot that he carries for luck. He doesn’t care what direction he sleeps, and he cannot hold a mistress for more than a day, but he does well enough. And there is Jean. He has a last name but despises it, so we do not use it. Food follows his arrival the way misfortune followed Bossuet’s. He’s always bringing pastries to meetings (and by the by, we do not meet at the Musain anymore, we have moved to that little shop on the corner that Jehan always wanted us to try, do you remember?). He makes a certain face when talk moves from philosophy to action, but I am certain that will change in time. Then there’s Francois, he is hardworking and kind and

and

and it doesn’t matter. 

He is none of you.

(We haven’t come close to finding another skeptic skilled in puns, the classics, and drinking all in one—the silence is truly deafening.)

(The position of second-in-command is closed until further notice.)

 

And so things are going as well as can be expected. Our landlady worries for my health, but I am taking better care of myself than before and following your instructions quite precisely: I eat three meals a day, I exercise every evening, and I sleep through every night. 

(Which is to say, I lay in bed 

in the dark 

with my eyes shut.

)

I couldn’t tell one day from another, but I am still alive and trying desperately to stay that way.

Our landlady says that to be alive without living is to be dead already, but it is more than you all have, so I will cling to it in your memory.

 

Do say “hello” to everyone for me—yes, even Marius, the dolt. Tell him that I see his girl around. She doesn’t talk to me, and I cannot begrudge her that—many days I despise my own company. She looks well. I’ve been trying to track down Joly’s Musichetta, but it does not seem that she wants to be found. If Bahorel’s mistress is real, she remains as elusive as she was in his life. 

Feuilly’s landlord came by with his things yesterday—no one else had come to claim them, and I don’t know who to contact. He was too good not to have anyone; I will keep searching, but if you can pass on the missive, I would be grateful. I know I can hardly complain, but these things can be rather exhausting to undertake alone.

Your parents stopped by. They cried when they heard the news. 

I think they hate me. 

They should.

 

E

 

~~PS - Do you remember what Grantaire said when I tried to send him off? You probably don’t. He said he believed in me. I’d told him to leave, but he died by my side, and, well. If he finds himself available to explain at some time, please let him know that I would appreciate it.~~

**Author's Note:**

> This was a thought experiment I started back in January or so and finally decided was appropriate to post.
> 
> (I mean, technically it's been a thought experiment since TheCandlesticksFromLesMis made [this post](https://shitpostingfromthebarricade.tumblr.com/post/177800715484/thecandlesticksfromlesmis-i-think-weve-all-had), but I didn't start writing anything for it until later.)
> 
> Comment beow or reach out to me at my [tumblr](http://shitpostingfromthebarricade.tumblr.com). Festive Barricade Day to y'all.


End file.
